


Looking for Ourselves (But Found Each Other)

by J (j_writes)



Category: Panic At The Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-20
Updated: 2009-12-20
Packaged: 2017-10-04 17:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/j_writes/pseuds/J
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan's car didn't have air conditioning.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking for Ourselves (But Found Each Other)

Ryan's car didn't have air conditioning.

The paint on the outside was peeling, the seats on the inside were torn and stained, there were dents from all the times he'd bumped into curbs and walls and fire hydrants when Spencer's dad was trying to teach him to drive, and there were occasionally sounds that indicated that a family of desert creatures might have been building a nest somewhere in the engine.

But most importantly, it didn't have air conditioning.

If they drove fast enough, it didn't matter. On the weekends when they'd pile into the car, Ryan and Spencer and Trevor and whoever else wanted to come with them that time, and drive out along the highway for as long and far as they could before having to turn around and find a gas station, then they hardly cared at all, because they'd have all the windows open, and the desert wind would be whipping their hair around their faces as Ryan drove. But some nights, Ryan would show up on Spencer's porch, keys in hand, eyes exhausted, voice saying not much more than "want to go somewhere?" That was when the lack of air became a problem.

Those nights, they couldn't drive so fast, or so far, because they were still in school and still living with their families, even if sometimes their houses didn't seem like home at all. So they'd drive a little way, and they'd stop. Sometimes they'd get out of the car and walk, talking about things that had nothing to do with anything important. More often they'd climb out onto the roof of the car and lie there against the metal that was finally beginning to cool from a day spent sitting in the sun. Sometimes they'd talk, more often they wouldn't, and Spencer got used to having to wake Ryan a few hours later, bundle him into the car, and drive him home to curl up under the sheets on Spencer's bed.

Then there were the times when they wouldn't get out of the car at all. It started during the school year, when neither of them could concentrate on their work at home, between Ryan's dad and Spencer's sisters, so they'd get in the car and drive somewhere and spread out their books and papers across the back seat, sometimes complaining about their teachers, sometimes pointing out each other's mistakes, more often just working in companionable silence while the breeze flipped their papers around between them. Ryan almost always finished his work first, and then he'd sit there in the corner of the seat, legs folded up under him at an improbable angle, reading a book, every once in a while pausing to read a section aloud to Spencer.

Then, gradually, those nights turned into something else, something that had nothing to do with schoolwork or books at all. The first time, it was because of the music. "Wait," Ryan had said as Spencer reached across him to kill the engine. "Just…listen." He'd tipped his chair back, almost into the back seat, twisting and propping his legs up on the dashboard.

So Spencer had listened, closed his eyes and tipped his seat back level to Ryan's, and he'd listened to the ways the instruments wove and danced through each other's parts, telling a story parallel to the one being put into words by the singer.

"Do you think we can do that?" Ryan asked eventually, twisting to face Spencer, tucking his knees up under his chin.

"Sound like that?" Spencer asked, thinking of Ryan fiddling with his guitar in his bedroom, Spencer's secondhand drum kit in the basement. He smiled a little. "Probably not."

"No, not _that_," Ryan kicked his side lightly. "I mean make music that _says_ something."

Spencer thought of the notebooks littering the floor under his kit, the ones Ryan would sit and scribble into while Spencer was practicing, leaning back against the legs of Spencer's stool and tipping the books up to look at him questioningly every once in a while. "I think we already do," he said slowly. "Maybe it doesn't sound great yet, but…it means something. To you , at least."

"Me, right," Ryan said. He turned to stare out the window, hair falling a little into his eyes.

"Hey," Spencer said, reaching out and pinching Ryan's arm until Ryan squirmed, pulling away and glaring at him a little. "Us, okay? Not just you."

"Nice try," Ryan said, kicking him again, but his eyes had lost a little bit of their hurt look, and he left his legs stretched across Spencer's lap, leaning back against the door.

They stayed silent for a few moments after that, Spencer idly tapping out the rhythm of the music against Ryan's leg while he waited for Ryan to say whatever he was really getting at. Finally, Ryan shifted a little, tipping his head back against the window frame. "Can we just stay here?" he asked.

"Permanently?" Spencer asked. "Sure. Although I might have to take up the tambourine instead. I'm pretty sure my kit won't fit in the backseat."

"We can put it upstairs," Ryan said, gesturing to the roof.

"Sold," Spencer told him. "But if you lose parts of it while you're driving, understand that I _will_ kick your ass."

"We'll invest in some very solid duct tape," Ryan assured him. He stuck his hand out across the console, and they shook on it solemnly. Then Ryan sighed and curled up against the back of his seat.

"I would, you know," Spencer told him, his hand reaching out to touch Ryan's hair or shoulder, then falling back into his lap when he couldn't decide what to do with it.

"Move into my car?" Ryan asked him, laughing a little pathetically.

Spencer shrugged, looking out his window. "If that's what it took," he mumbled.

"What it took to do what?" Ryan said. "Be _serious musicians_?" his mocking voice held just a tiny edge of bitterness to it.

"Make things not suck," Spencer said. "For you," he clarified when Ryan didn't say anything. They sat there in silence for another few minutes, Spencer's hands curled defensively in his lap, feeling the heat from Ryan's legs sinking through their pants, making it uncomfortably warm in the front seat. "Forget it," he said eventually, shifting under Ryan's legs. "I didn't mean-"

He was cut off abruptly by Ryan wiggling out of his seat, his legs shifting to be on either side of Spencer, awkwardly twisting his way across the car until he was sitting on Spencer's legs, his weight balanced precariously over him. "Spence," he said, bracing himself against the back of Spencer's chair, and then he was leaning in and pressing his mouth to Spencer's before either of them could say anything else. It was too hot in the car, their breath coming in brief overheated pants against each other's skin, but Ryan's lips were soft and desperate against his, and when he pulled back briefly to catch his breath, he lowered his head to Spencer's shoulder and let out a tiny noise that made Spencer reach up, tangle his fingers into Ryan's hair, and tug his head back so he could kiss him again.

Time stretched into something that didn't exist as they sat there in the car, Ryan's shirt riding up as Spencer wrapped his fingers around his hips to keep him steady, Spencer's skin flushing redder with each kiss Ryan pressed against his throat and collarbone, both of them rocking against each other in time to their kissing, lazy and slow and without any real intent but to keep feeling like this, to keep feeling each other's skin and lips and fingers for as long as they possibly could.

It was Spencer who finally changed that, who shifted against Ryan until Ryan was pressing hard against his hip, then rocked against him with sudden intent. Ryan gasped into his mouth, bit Spencer's lip between his teeth, and Spencer bit him back, his hands curling around to Ryan's back pockets and tucking into them, pulling him against Spencer in a steady rhythm. "_Oh_," Ryan said, then closed his hands around Spencer's shoulders and twisted his hips down against him in a way that had Spencer rolling his head back against the seat and letting out a sound he hadn't thought he could make.

Ryan came first, his face tucked into the curve of Spencer's shoulder, his arms wrapped around Spencer's back under his shirt, their skin sliding slick and hot against each other where the fabric had ridden up. The sound he made was muffled against Spencer's skin, but even with that, Spencer knew it was something he wanted to hear over and over again. He sagged heavily against Spencer, losing all control of his muscles, and the pressure of his body against Spencer's lap would have been enough, with a few twists of Spencer's hips, to get him off right then and there. But then Ryan was slipping his hand down between their bodies and cupping Spencer through his pants, and Spencer came in seconds, hips jerking up off the seat, shaking Ryan's body along with his own.

They climbed into the backseat after that, stripping off their shirts and sprawling out, kissing lazily and breathing in the desert breeze in huge starving gasps. On the drive home, they talked about music, and school, and everything except the fact that they were both shifting uncomfortably around in their jeans, and when they got back to Spencer's they changed into his pajamas and curled up in bed together, and Ryan fell asleep against his side just like every night he spent over there. But in the morning when Spencer woke up and rolled over, hair rumpled uncomfortably against the pillow, he found Ryan propped up on an arm beside him, watching him sleep with a look of content that Spencer had never seen on his face before.

Things continued like that, the two of them escaping in Ryan's car, having nights when they'd take walks, and nights when they'd do work, and nights when they'd stretch out on the roof together and tell stories about the stars, and now they also had the nights when they'd climb into the back seat and touch and kiss and rub up against each other until they were both panting and sweating and clinging together in identical desperation.

When they got signed, the first thing Spencer bought himself was a car. He showed up in Ryan's driveway an hour later and honked the horn, then leaned against the grill until Ryan came out onto the porch. His face lit up as he saw Spencer there, legs stretched out in front of him, elbows propped against the shiny new metal.

"It has air conditioning," Spencer said, and when Ryan made it down the stairs, he pushed Spencer back against the hood and kissed him right there, pressing his whole body up against him.

"Prove it," he said, stealing the keys out of Spencer's pocket and waving them in front of his face.

So Spencer drove him out into the desert, parked the car in the dunes, where the sun was setting and the breeze was just starting to cool down, and he did.


End file.
